Strange Dreams Part Five: Are We Men or Are We Mice?
by Oconee Belle
Summary: This saying was never meant to be a literal question. But, at the same time, the human body was never meant to turn into a mouse.


Technical Sergeant Andrew Carter lifted the formula to his lips and held his breath. _Gee, I don't know. Maybe I shouldn't drink this…_But he _had_ to. If he couldn't go to sleep on his own, he'd just have to make it happen. Because, insomnia isn't a pretty thing. And he was ready for it to be over…_NOW_.

So, he tightly shut his eyes and guzzled down the potion, before he could change his mind. And...he wasn't sleepy at all. His heart was racing a mile a minute, and he felt like he could climb twenty-seven Mt. Everests, without any help from an oxygen tank. That stupid drink had given him the exact opposite effect!

In disappointment, he opened his eyes and reeled backwards. His lab table was towering over him like a skyscraper and he was _so _tiny. On top of that, he was jumping up and down. No, his _floor_ was jumping up and down. Red warning lights flashed in his head, screaming 'tunnel collapse', but it was something else. Something huge. And, it was coming right at him. He let out a terrified yelp, darting under his lab table without a second to spare.

Someone had come a hair away from squashing him into a human pancake! Just as he was about to yell at whoever that careless person was, he got a closer look at the shoes and gulped. Those boots belonged to him. Andrew Carter.

_That's __**ME**__! Oh boy, even with all the crazy stuff going on around here, how did **that** happen?_

The huge version of himself stood there for a second, trembling, and then scampered off down into the tunnels. Only then did Carter allow himself to start breathing again, and he reached up to rub his eyes. This had to be some crazy hallucination. With insomnia, anything is possible.

_Huh? _It felt like he had hit his face with rabbit fur gloves. But no, he was wearing _paws_! _Oh boy, I think__ I'm a…_ he craned his neck to look himself over from the tips of his paws to his long brown tail, and let out an ear-piercing squeak…_"Mouse!"_

Once the shock wore off, which took a good while, he sniffed around to gather his bearings. After all, everything is so different when one is three inches small. But, he eventually found the door and darted out as fast as he could. He stayed very close to the dirt wall to avoid being stepped on, having learned just minutes ago that getting stomped on was a very real possibility.

After what seemed like hours, he made it to the ladder and gulped. How was a tiny mouse like him supposed to climb up an enormous ladder like that? Suddenly, he had a new kind of respect for Felix. Not that his mouse went around climbing ladders all the time, but still.

"Okay, Andrew, you can do this! Shucks, it's only a ladder. You've climbed it hundreds of times before. Only, then you weren't a mouse! How do mice even climb up ladders anyway?"

Although it sounded very much to him like he was talking to himself, in reality he was chattering like a squirrel who had misplaced all of his winter acorns, not to mention all of his marbles.

Taking a deep breath and trying to be very brave, he sprung up and clung to the wood with his sharp teeth and claws. _Yuck! We gotta start cleaning this thing! _With determination only a mouse can have, he made it to the top in a good ten minutes and felt like he had run a good five marathons in the process.

Then there was the problem of opening the entrance. _Boy! Am I having a bad day! _But, as luck would have it, he didn't have to wait for long. The bunk flew up and Kinch was getting ready to climb down.

"Squeak! I mean, oh geez, I better hurry!" Carter lunged for the light... and smacked right into the edge of the bed. By then, Kinch was ducking down under to top bunk, ready to have his go at squashing Carter.

No way was Carter going to risk Kinch mistaking him for a common house mouse, only after he'd plastered him to the ladder. With a death like that, he wouldn't even get a hero's burial! So, with another mighty burst of strength, Carter flew out and landed on the floor with a soft thud, panting. He had made it!

But, now that he was up here, he wondered what he was going to do. It wasn't like he could walk up to Newkirk with a big mousy grin and say, "Hey there, buddy! Guess who?"

The Englander would probably chase him under the bed, and that was if he was in a good mood. And, if he stayed out here in the open, chances were LeBeau would see him. Newkirk's reaction would be like a fairy-tale compared to the Frenchman's, who was known for being overly protective of his kitchen.

Speaking of the Frenchman, LeBeau was headed straight at him with a covered plate. Carter scampered under the false bunk and watched as LeBeau disappeared down into the tunnel with Kinch's lunch.

"Whew, that was close." He peeked out from his hiding place and looked around. Olsen was relaxing on his top bunk, reading a worn letter for the hundredth time. Garlotti was on his bunk, writing a letter. And, Newkirk was up on his top bunk, darning a pair of socks.

At least Newkirk knew who Felix was. Also, poor Garlotti was painfully quite aware of Felix's chewing habits…So, feeling very much like a cockroach afraid of the light, Carter crept out from under the bed and started going absolutely berserk. He jumped up and down, throwing his paws in the air and squeaking very loudly.

Olsen looked up from his faded letter, "Well, would you look at that mouse! It's dancing!"

"Dancing you say, Olsen?" Newkirk peered over his sewing. "Sorry chum, but that is a mouse that 'as gone 'round the bend."

"Boy! What does a mouse have to do to get recognized around here?" Carter stopped jumping, and pointed at himself with his paws, a feat that was definitely not to be taken lightly.

"The poor guy is going crazy," Garlotti climbed down from his bunk and slowly took a step towards the little 'mouse'. "Hey there. Don't run off. I'm not going to hurt you."

Carter didn't run off. He ran _towards_ Garlotti, forgetting that being chased by a crazed mouse might be a little bit startling.

Garlotti yelped. He jumped up onto the table, as if the floor had suddenly turned to lava, "That mouse is rabid!"

Olsen and Newkirk were too busy laughing at him to recognize Felix. "Mate, it's just a mouse! They're more afraid of you than you are of them!"

Olsen caught his breath, and shook his head at Newkirk before looking back down at the petrified Garlotti. He burst out laughing again, although neither Garlotti nor Carter understood what was so funny.

"You two cut it out!" Garlotti was turning bright red. "That mouse _is_ rabid! It tried to attack me!"

"*Cuando il gatto non c'è i topi ballano," Newkirk said, his Italian rather butchered. Where he'd learned that, Carter had no idea.

"*Solo quelli rabbiosi," Garlotti growled, if possible, turning even redder.

Carter broke in before either of them could continue arguing, "Gee, Garlotti, I'm not a mouse! I'm Carter, and I'm Felix at the same time! I ate your socks, remember? Well, I mean, Felix ate your socks. You know, the ones your dad sent you for Christmas? The red and white ones? Or, was it the red and black ones? Of course, that was a while back, but still, you swore you'd never let me live it down-,"

"That mouse _is_ mad," Newkirk suddenly stated in all seriousness. "'e's been chattering for a minute straight!"

"Yeah," Olsen wasn't laughing anymore. "I bet he really has rabies."

"_Now_ you believe me!" Garlotti's eyes didn't leave the mouse, but his tone made it obvious who he was talking to.

"Alright then, we 'ave two options," Newkirk slowly set his sewing aside. "We kill it. Or, we catch it and then kill it."

Carter nearly jumped out of his fur. "Kill me?! Gee whiz, give me a chance!" He dashed under the nearest bunk and pressed up against the wall, trembling.

"Garlotti, you're the closest," Olsen was saying.

"Are you crazy? That 'thing' has already charged me once!"

"You two blokes sound like li'l kids," Carter could just see Newkirk rolling his eyes. "It's just a mouse we're talking about."

"Oh? Then why don't _you_ get it?" Olsen's voice sounded a bit harsh.

"Cor, you really are scared," Newkirk said as he slipped down from his bunk. "Just like me sister Mavis. All tough and 'ead strong until a li'l mouse scampers past! And then it's up on the table with 'er too!"

Garlotti didn't budge. Olsen only joked back, "Well, it's not my line of work. I'm a prisoner of war, not a mouse catcher."

"Blimey, and I thought we 'ad nothing in common," Newkirk got down on all fours and peered under the bunk. "Come 'ere, you li'l bugger. Uncle Newkirk wont 'urt you. _'E's_ not afraid of you either."

Carter didn't know what to do. If he came up to him, 'Uncle' Newkirk would definitely suspect rabies. If he ran away, he'd be on the run for the rest of his life. Thankfully, he didn't have to make up his mind.

"'Old on just a tick," Newkirk tilted his head. "You look quite a bit like a Felix I once knew."

Carter sighed with relief. "That's me! I'm Felix! I mean, Carter!"

"Well, you don't 'ave to go around squeaking me ears off! I'd know that 'orrible racket anywhere. Andrew, your mouse got loose!"

"I _am_ Andrew!" Carter slapped his furry brow. How in the world could he tell someone who he was, if all they heard was him squeaking?!

Newkirk reached under the bed, coaxing the mouse out. "If you bite me, I am not responsible for me actions," he warned, sliding his hand along the floor.

Garlotti had finally relaxed a bit, "Hey, if he does bite you, you'll be awarded for your bravery."

"Yeah," Olsen joined in. "For throwing yourself in between a rabid mouse and your friends, without a mere thought for your own health, and saving them from certain death. Very honorable, Newkirk. You're an inspiration for us all!"

"Some friends you are," Newkirk grumbled. He closed his fingers around Carter, a little too tightly. "At the very least, one of you could go get Andrew and tell 'im 'is secret weapon 'as escaped."

"You got it," Garlotti jumped down from the table and hit the fake bunk twice, disappearing down into the tunnels.

"There we are," Newkirk emerged from under the bunk covered in dust and crossed the room with a twinkle in his eye, holding Carter out in front of his friend's face. "'Ey Olsen, you still think 'e 'as rabies?"

Carter could not believe it. Olsen inched farther away from him, like he was scared or something. "If he does, I'm not the one finding out. Get that thing away from me."

"Oh, not you too," Newkirk smirked, before looking down at Carter. "Well, mate, I guess it's two against one. It's a right good thing Andrew's not afraid of you. You wouldn't stand a chance."

_Yeah, except, Andrew's right here, pal!_

Just then the bunk above the tunnel entrance flew up and Garlotti jumped out, sheet white. "Kill the mouse! It gave Carter rabies! Kill it!" he lunged at Newkirk, panting.

"Oi, Garlotti, keep your 'air on!" Newkirk protectively sheltered Carter from Garlotti. "What the bloody 'ell are you talking about?"

"Carter…running around the tunnels like a mad man! LeBeau and Kinch have been chasing him for the last ten minutes!"

Olsen suddenly propped up on his elbow, "Not Carter!"

"It's true," Garlotti put his hands on his knees, still breathing hard. "I saw him down there! He's sick! Real sick! It's all the mouse's fault! You saw how he was acting earlier!"

Newkirk dashed over to the tunnel and dropped Carter in his pocket, before climbing down the ladder.

The bouncy ride was miserable. Several times as he was jostled up and down, Carter bit his tongue. And the whole time, he felt like his brain was being rattled around, almost like LeBeau was mixing it up in a thick cake batter. _I'm never putting Felix in my pocket again! But, wait, I am Felix and Felix is me! This is just great. I knew I shouldn't of drank that stuff. Boy, have I flubbed up big time!_

"Andrew! Andrew, where are you, mate?"

"He's over here, mon ami," LeBeau called. "Be careful! He is afraid."

Carter peeked out of Newkirk's pocket and saw that Kinch and LeBeau had him, or, well, Felix, trapped in a dead end tunnel that they were using for storage.

The poor mouse who had no idea how to be a human was cowering behind boxes, trembling with fear. And the poor human who had no idea how to be a mouse was shaking in Newkirk's pocket, trying desperately to think up a way to tell his friends what was going on.

"Andrew, we're not going to hurt you. We're your _friends_. It's me, Kinch. Do you remember me?"

Felix just stayed pressed up against the dirt wall. His eyes were darting everywhere as he tried to find a better place to hide. Just then, Colonel Hogan ran into the room with a very confused look on his face."What's going on down here? Olsen said Carter has rabies."

Terrified by all of the people, Felix looked from Kinch to LeBeau and back again with panic filled eyes before making a run for it. He crashed right into the Colonel.

"Andrew!" Hogan fought to hold him still. "Andrew! Calm down…OW!" Hogan jerked back when Felix sunk his razor sharp teeth into his arm. With that, the human mouse darted free and ran down the tunnel, leaving a very bewildered Colonel Hogan behind.

"Sir, 'e bit you!" Newkirk rushed over in dismay. "Cor, it broke through the jacket _and_ the skin too!"

"What are we going to do, Colonel?" LeBeau asked, turning white.

"How about answering my question?!" Colonel Hogan all but shouted. "How did Carter get rabies in a POW camp? Sure we have dogs, but-,"

Newkirk reached into his pocket and pulled out the mouse. "'e's gone balmy, Guv. I bet poor Andrew got bitten by 'im and 'e just didn't want to tell us."

"The mouse?" Hogan rubbed his arm with a wince. "You mean Felix?"

Newkirk nodded, "'E was jumping all over the place a minute ago. We thought 'e was just acting up. But then," Newkirk nodded down the empty tunnel where his mate was...somewhere, clawing at the walls, and out of his bleedin' mind.

"Sir, how are we going to catch Carter?" Kinch questioned.

LeBeau took a step forwards, "And, what about the mouse?"

Hogan closed his eyes with a sigh, "LeBeau, Kinch, come with me. We're finding Andrew. Newkirk, get rid of the mouse."

"Oui, Colonel."

"Yes, sir."

"Right, Guv."

And that was that. It was final. Carter was plunked back into Newkirk's pocket. He started trembling even harder now, and it wasn't from Newkirk's fast steps. Why couldn't anyone around here understand mouse talk? Well, it really didn't matter. It was his last option.

"Newkirk, I promise, it's me, Carter! I'm not a mouse and Felix isn't me at all! I know that's kinda hard to believe right now, but it's true, I swear! I don't have rabies! Shucks, I take such good care of Felix that there's no way he can have it either-,"

Newkirk cut him off when he reached into his pocket and took him out, looking at him sadly. "Well, I guess this is the end, mate. I'm right sorry I 'ave to do this. I'll try to make it quick."

Carter squeezed his eyes shut. "NO! NEWKIRK! I'M NOT A MOUSE!" He started shouting at the top of his little mouse lungs, which wasn't very effective, but it was all he could do now. There was no way he was jumping out of Newkirk's hands. That in itself would kill him.

"I'M ANDREW CARTER! DON'T KILL ME! I'M NOT FELIX! I ONLY LOOK LIKE HIM! Don't kill me, please! I'm Carter! Technical Sergeant Andrew Carter! Your buddy! Please, don't kill me! I don't have rabies!"

"Cor blimey, with all that yelling, you're making it rather debatable!"

"Well, I'm not a mouse! I'm Andrew Carter! I'm from Bullfrog, North Dakota! You can't kill me! My mom would have a fit!"

"Calm down," Newkirk said softly. He put a gentle hand on Carter's shoulder. "Andrew, I never said you were a mouse! I 'ave no idea what you're talking about. Cor, all I did was try to get you from the floor of your lab to the cot in the radio room."

Carter opened his eyes and saw Newkirk staring down at him in concern. "You mean you're not going to kill me?"

"_Kill_ you? Mate, who do you think I am?"

"Well, _you_ said you would. All of you guys did. You thought I had rabies!"

Newkirk rolled his eyes, "Andrew, for the last time, I'm not bloody killing you! Or anyone for that matter! I found you asleep in the lab, and thought you might get a better rest on the cot in the radio room. Rabies never even crossed me mind."

_I must have been dreaming! _Carter thought excitedly. He looked up at Newkirk with that goofy grin of his, "You know what?"

"What's that?"

"I was dreaming the whole time! None of it was real! I was never a mouse! Felix was never a human! It was all just a really awful dream!"

"I'm sure you're right," Newkirk helped Carter up. He put a firm hand on Carter's back and started to steer him down the tunnel. "Now, let's go get your 'ead checked out."

"No, I'm fine now! Gee, thanks for waking me up, Newkirk!" Carter smiled and pulled away from him, starting back into his lab.

"'Ey, where do you think you're going, mate?" Newkirk called after him.

"I'm checking on Felix! See ya!"

Newkirk shook his head. _Blimey, and I thought 'e was balmy__** with** insomnia!_

The End

**Author's Note:**

**1) Cuando il gatto non c'e i topi ballano- when the cat isn't there, the mice dance (If you want to know where our beloved Englishman learned that phrase, you'll have to write the story yourself. I have no idea)**

**2) Solo quelli rabbiosi- only the rabid ones (Got that one off Google Translate, so who knows how accurate it is...)**

**Garlotti was in one episode, The Pizza Parlor, and only had a few lines. He was quiet and didn't say much. But, I figured that didn't mean he wouldn't panic if one of his friends had rabies… or if a mouse that was going absolutely berserk suddenly charged at him.**

**I know I would have jumped up on the table, even if all of my friends were watching. So, maybe he would too...**

**I always ask my readers (the people or pets that I read these stories to) which story was their favorite and why. Would you guys mind telling me? I'm just so excited to finish my first series, and I'd love to know what ya'll enjoyed the most! And, I know some of you are afraid to review, because I might not like it and bite your head off in a PM. I simply couldn't do that if I wanted to. I guess being mean just isn't in me. I once tried to save a _cockroach_ from getting killed, so I'm really not a threat. Seriously, if you absolutely hated this series and wished you could wipe it off the face of the earth, I'm okay with that. **

**To me, constructive criticism only means that for once I was wrong, and needed to be put back on the right path. Now that I put it that way, no need to feel guilty for bursting my bubble...because you're actually helping me become a better writer.**


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